The World & 'characters belong to JK Rowling..
The one that came into my life on the right moment.
She added Magic, sparkles and Love when I needed it so much..
Because of that,
My Ode to HP.
*bows*
Proudly, I present you:

Good and Bad. Final Battle.
12+ GW**M** GT* SX* HG/DM How do you tell someone that he was in a magic-coma for two months. That the war was fought without him.

This story is betaread by Anadria from Wizardzone.
I want to thank her for the incredible work she has done!
-This is A re-writed story, Version one is quick-writen and in dutch, uploaded too.
I hope you like the story, so relax, sit back and read it, .. if you want..

[1/3]

"Where am I? Hello? Is anybody there?" Nobody answered his question. He groped around but couldn't see anything. It was too dark. He searched the pockets of his robe, but couldn't find his wand. He tried to walk using his hands as eyes. He felt a wall, felt the texture of wallpaper. While walking he held the wall with one hand to guide him. Then he bumped into something. It blocked his way. He wanted to know what it was so he felt using just one hand because the other hand was still touching the wall. He recognised the shape. It was a bed. Again he cried out for help. "Hello? Can anybody hear me?"
He panicked. He wanted to run but he couldn't. The room was pitch-black. He saw completely nothing. He couldn't even see his own hand right in front of his face. He wanted to shout for help again, very loud this time. He just wanted to scream, but he didn't get the chance because he was interrupted by some noise.
The door opened and light came into the room he was standing in. The black hole where he was standing turned into a regular girly bedroom. Confused by the enormous abundance of light he blinked a couple of times, then looked at the doorway.
Someone was standing over there with crossed arms. Slowly, he moved and walked towards the person at the door. Then he saw it was a woman. She was thin, nicely dressed in a red robe. He was sure he didn't know her. His mind was going a thousand miles an hour.
"Who are you?" It sounded as if he was somewhat in panic. "Where am I?" he asked. The woman waited to answer the questions and looked like she was thinking. He went to her and stood straight in front of her looking very serious. At that point, when he was standing right in front of her and ,expressing all the anger he felt, he repeated his questions. If words or faces could have killed people, she would have been dead by now.
The woman only said he needed to relax, but still didn't answer his questions. He clicked his tongue and tapped his feet. "I'm waiting." She look at him, annoyed, like she didn't care, taking a moment to think. Then she responded somewhat irritated: "Yes, I can see that. Come on, follow me."
The woman walked towards the staircase leading him downstairs. They ended up in her living room, full of bright colours and nice girly stuff. The woman sat down on the couch, a beautiful yellow one. He stood in the room, uncertain and confused about what to do now. She pointed to an orange chair near the couch. When he sat down he asked his questions again, nicely, without anger this time. "Will you no tell me who you are and where I am?"
The next thing she said wasn't exactly what he had wanted to hear. She said: "No," and shook her head. "Do you want something to drink?"
He nodded: "Yes please." She took her wand and without saying a thing she summoned two glasses and a bottle of fairy wine which she landed nicely on the table. He watched, waited and then asked rather angrily: "Why not? Who are you?"
He was getting mad, she could hear it in his voice, but he kept his outward calmness. "Tell me, speak up."
He really wanted to know where he was right now, what the reason for him to be here was and how he got to this place. Instead of answering his question she asked the same thing: "Who are you?"
Catty he said: "None of your business."
A silence fell between them. He didn't allow the conversation to come to a standstill, so he spoke again because she didn't look like she was going to.
"I asked you the same question first," he said smugly.
She looked at him: "Tell me your name so I know what to tell you. Then, I will tell you everything I know." She didn't reply friendly, but she didn't care. She was waiting for two persons and she needed to know which one was sitting in her chair.
His anger somewhat faded and he gave her a surprised look. That was not what he had expected her to say. He hesitated. Should he say who he was? Telling her who he was would make him vulnerable. She saw his hesitation but didn't respond to it. She didn't have any reason to. He couldn't do anything to her.
After a minute of five he just screamed, madly, but not loud. It was more like a soft noise. Anger reverberated in his voice.
She overheard, like she thought he had made a choice? He wasn't going to tell her his name. "Tell me who you are now."
"Tell me where I am." He folded his hands. "Right now. I command you!" He looked mad, but his body showed calmness. She didn't reply, just looked at him stunned. He had hurt her feelings.
"Why are you so unbearable?" he asked angrily. In his voice a tone from years ago sounded through. She heard it and responded only by looking the other way to avoid eye contact.
"You do not have to tell me who you are." Her voice was almost a whisper. It sounded soft, broken and a little bit sad. She had known that this day was coming. Why had she only now realised it was him? She already knew who he was. He knew her too. He might have forgotten her, maybe because it was so long ago. Perhaps because she had erased him from her memory. Apparently, deleting him from her memory hadn't been a success, because she still knew who he was.
He looked at her, surprised, his mouth opened. "You already know who I am? Then why do you ask me?" he asked it slowly, while thinking. Again, he didn't get any answer. He was thinking while looking to the woman in front of him. She hadn't looked at him, kept looking away from him. That brown hair he saw was vaguely familiar. He wished he could connect it to one specific memory. He shifted, away from the chair to the couch to sit next to the woman.
Hesitating, he asked: "Do I know you? Do I need to know you?"
For a brief moment it was silent. He was waiting for her to answer this time. Finally, she turned towards him, looking at him. She looked sad, trying hard not to cry.
She answered with a broken, soft whisper: "Yes Draco Malfoy, you do need to know me. Surprised for hearing his name out of her mouth he looked at her. She took a deep breath. "It's me, Hermione Granger."

Bye!